


tattoo

by Amber



Series: Create Something Every Day! (October 2018) [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, October Prompt Challenge, Pre-Slash, Tattoos, Unrequited Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 01:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: Prompt 4: Tattoo.





	tattoo

"The thing is," says Jon, "I'm... well, I'm afraid of needles."

Martin nods. He can understand that. He's afraid of small spaces, and amnesia, and the possibility that actually, not all dogs go to heaven. He's the last person to judge. Only. "That's a little inconvenient, isn't it?" He takes one look at Jon's expression and adds, "I mean, obviously you're not afraid of needles on _purpose_ , and you can't just _not_ get the tattoos — or um, you could? You could just not get the tattoos, Jon."

"No," he says, stubborn as always.

"We could find another way?"

"No," Jon repeats. "If they were good enough for Gerry Keay, then they're good enough for me."

Mm. Bit different, that, Martin thinks, but he doesn't quite have the _capacity for boldness_ to argue with Jon when he gets like this: cranky in the face of his own weakness. "All right, all right," he says instead, placating. "I'll come with you, then."

Jon clears his throat, and Martin blushes, thinks maybe that's a step too far — he's not entirely sure of how many tattoos Jon has to get in order to be free of Elias' watchful gaze, but they might end up being in quite personal places, so maybe he shouldn't have—

"Yes," says Jon, "I'd like that."

"Oh, all right," says Martin, with a smile. "Good. Great! Great."

-

As it turns out, Jon isn't getting the eyes over his entire body, just down the length of his spine. That's sort of good, actually, because it means Jon is facing away from the tattoo artist, leant into the padded slope of the chair-table like he's going to receive a massage. Except what's actually going to happen is he's going to get stabbed with tiny inky needles a million times.

Martin doesn't feel like he has much purpose at first. He chatters away at Jon while the tattoo artist swabs his back, applies the transfers, prepares his tools. And Jon, though nervous, at least makes an effort to participate in the conversation — maybe more than he usually does with Martin, even, because distractions are scant.

Then there's the soft buzz of the tattoo gun, and Jon goes _rigid_ , his jaw clenched.

"Hey," Martin murmurs, taking his hand. It's the burnt one — the strange texture of the scars has never bothered Martin, something that he thinks surprised Jon the first time Martin touched it without flinching, and is now just one more minor intimacy between them. He rubs his fingers up the fragile skin of Jon's wrist, trying to calm the tense tremble he can feel. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here."

"Thank you," Jon says stiffly, obviously embarrassed, and whiteknuckles Martin's hand as the tattooing process starts.

Jon has plenty of scars, so Martin knows he knows pain intimately, but he still seems a little shivery under the protracted sting of the gun down the sensitive skin of his spine. Martin keeps cooing and petting him, and eventually the adrenaline must kick in because Jon stops being reluctant about it and accepts it, his lids going heavy and his cheeks flushed. Martin thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"So," says the tattoo artist, who until now has been focusing on their work and letting Martin ramble about whatever distracting nonsense came into his head, but suddenly takes a drink of water and asks in the most nonchalant-possible tone: "You lads close, then?"

Martin is about to emphasize that they're work colleagues, since when they came in he caught the guy eyeing his corded bracelet with the little pride rainbow, the patches on his denim jacket. But Jon says, "Of course," all huffily. "I asked him to come, didn't I?"

"Fair point, fair point," the man responds with a small smile, recapping his water. "That's great. Good for you." Martin isn't sure how to explain that yes, he is gay, and yes, he is very much in love with this man, but despite Jon's oblivious-ass answer they aren't actually together-together? How is he supposed to raise that point. With either of them. It is unraisable.

But... Jon is holding his hand so tightly, and Martin isn't going to let him down by letting go.

-

"Christ," Jon says, when he's finally allowed to sit up again, woozy. The artist starts going over tattoo care, but — "Tell Martin," Jon says shortly, pinching his brow, "I have a headache."

With a flick of his eyebrow the guy starts explaining it to Martin instead, but he looks a little concerned about Jon's wellbeing, fetches him a bottle of water. Martin wonders if, in the brief moment they're alone together, he should explain that this guy thinks Martin's going to be physically taking care of Jon's tattoo because they're a couple. But he doesn't, and the man comes back with water, and Jon sips it slowly under Martin's watchful eye. Despite a lifetime of being emotionally incompetent, Jon catches that Martin is mother-henning silently and turns it back on him, pushing the plastic bottle at his chest with a crinkle and a command: "Drink."

Martin takes it and drinks, helpless against Jon being a bit bossy, against Jon caring enough to make sure he's hydrated too. "Thanks," he says, hands it back, and yeah, they just shared a waterbottle, now the tattoo artist definitely thinks they're boyfriends.

-

"You should book your appointment," Jon says as they pay at the counter.

"Right," says Martin, scratching the warm spot at the back of his neck. "Yeah. I uh, I want to get something similar done."

"You're going to match?" the tattoo artist asks, with a tone that says he thinks that's a bit of a soft touch. Martin just chuckles nervously, and they go through the calendar, picking out dates.

"I can't do that Wednesday," says Jon, "I've a dental appointment in the afternoon."

"What about Thursday, then."

"Thursday's fine enough, I suppose."

"I mean," Martin says, "You don't have to come."

"I do, actually," Jon replies. "I have to come and hold your hand." Like it's the most obvious thing in the world, this mutual responsibility they now have. 

The tattoo artist nods as if this is natural and right. "I mean," he says, "I should hope so."

Martin just sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [Colton's post](http://penroseparticle.tumblr.com/post/177245309147/).


End file.
